


the axe that clears the forest

by pocketbat



Category: Vicious - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masochism, Painful Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sadism, bleeding during sex, physically damaging sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:02:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketbat/pseuds/pocketbat
Summary: Victor hadn't felt anything close to fear in a long, long time. This was the closest he'd come since dying for the first time. Frankly, it just felt like excitement.Or: Eli pushes. Victor eggs him on.





	the axe that clears the forest

**Author's Note:**

> **Content warning:** This isn't out-and-out noncon, but it's uh... bad. Two terrible people have brutal, physically damaging sex, which they are both very into, although it doesn't really resemble healthy consent in any way. (As always, porn is not sex ed—this isn't a model for real life trips to bone town. )
> 
> Context: Some handwavey, bullshit setting where Eli and Victor are forced to cooperate or have some other reason for not immediately killing each other. I don't know. You didn't come here for plot, did ya?

Victor had not felt anything close to fear in a long, long time. This was the closest he'd come since dying for the first time. Pinned as he was _—_ facedown over the desk with Eli's hand grinding his skull into the wood, with Eli's solid frame draped over his back and his harsh breathing resounding into his own ribcage _—_ it just felt like excitement.

"What are you going to do now, _hero?"_ he taunted. "You can't weasel out of it if I turn up dead, so what are you hoping to accomplish?"

"Oh, shut up," Eli growled, and he thrust against Victor's ass.

Victor was startled to hear his own wild laugh. He couldn't stop laughing, in fact, as he heard the jingle of a belt buckle and felt the rustle and tug of Eli undoing his jeans.

"What are you going to do if I try to get away from you?" he wondered, breathless. "How's God going to feel about this? How, exactly, do you fit raping a helpless man into your self-righteous little mission?"

"You're not helpless," Eli said, dark and hungry, and then he started tearing at Victor's slacks.

Victor didn't lift a finger to stop him, though he squirmed a few times just to feel Eli shove him back into place. Eli's focus was all on him, and the wrong things inside him were all bubbling to the surface, and he felt giddy drunk on it like no whiskey could ever manage. And Eli wasn't stopping. He wasn't even hesitating; he ripped Victor's black pants & black boxer briefs down his thighs and kicked his legs wider open.

"You can turn off your ability to feel pain now," Eli breathed against the nape of his neck, and Victor felt the hot, velvety drag of Eli's dick against his bare ass. He managed to keep his hips from twitching up, but it was a close thing. "I'd rather you didn't, though."

"This is your lucky day," Victor managed against the rising tide of another hysterical laugh, which turned into something he couldn't categorize when Eli pressed up against him and started to push.

He couldn't resist heckling: "No lube? Really, Eli, have you ever d _—_ " God, that was brutal _—_ dry skin on dry skin, unfamiliar muscles being levered apart without the slightest courtesy. " _—_ D-done this before?" (In point of fact, he hadn't done this before himself, although penetration _—_ with lube, thank you very much–was on the menu of his solo activities.)

Going numb would have been the sensible thing to do. Actually, the sensible thing to do would have been to extricate himself from Eli's rough embrace and leave, but Victor wasn't about to pass this up. But he wanted to _know,_ with a ravenous and self-immolating greed that even he knew was insane.

It didn't feel good at all. It couldn't have felt good for Eli, but it certainly wasn't stopping him. Getting the head of Eli's dick into himself was a uniquely intimate form of torture, and a real struggle. They worked together, silent except for pain-rough breathing that Victor could have listened to for hours, and by the time he was stretched open around Eli's breadth, Victor wasn't sure whether he had stopped trying to keep from writhing back onto it or whether he couldn't control himself anymore.

Eli groaned, low and heavy, as his cockhead settled inside Victor. "Didn't go numb, huh?" he rasped.

Victor smiled against the table, blazing. "How'd you know?" he said, and Eli coughed the shadow of a laugh.

"You think I wouldn't notice when you were in pain?" he said. "You're in agony right now, Vic."

Hearing Eli say it so baldly was... something. Victor grit his teeth and forced himself back. Involuntary tears were starting to well up in his eyes--facing away from Eli was a relief, as much as he'd like to see Eli's face like this.

"That," Eli said, unconvincingly casual, "and you're getting hard. I always" He shoved forward, using his body weight to wrench Victor's body open. _"—wondered_ if you had your wires crossed like this. I mean _—_ " Another thrust, another wretched few centimeters of progress that hurt so much Victor felt like he was being launched out of his body, even as the pain dragged him back in. " _—_ I knew you were a sadist, but _..."_

A bead of precome dripped from his cock, and Victor heard himself make a ragged, unhinged sound. "I could take your pain," he offered on impulse. "You wouldn't feel anything except _—_ " He bit down on the rising howl in his chest, carried on. " _—_ me, wrapped around your dick."

"Don't take it," Eli said, and he bit down on Victor's shoulder. His mouth was wet, hot, startling, and the pinch of flesh between his teeth offered a welcome counterpoint to the devastation he was wreaking on Victor's guts.

"Oh," Victor blurted out, and writhed, and there was finally a tiny bit of respite. If he wasn't mistaken, Eli was starting to slick them both up with his own precome. He still felt like he was being torn open: the kind of hot, panicky, immediate hurt that spoke of delicate tissues being ripped. He probably _was;_ some of that slight dampness might be blood, but now he could risk moving.

Eli latched onto his other shoulder with a growl and Victor's head hit the desk with a _thunk._ The iron grip on his hips shifted; Eli's hand slid up his back, making him suddenly aware that he was sweating, and wrapped around his throat.

He could die like this. Eli could choke him to death, spitted on his cock, and then burn his body so Sydney couldn't bring him back again _—_ Victor dragged his head up with an effort so that Eli could get a firm hold on the whole length of his windpipe, shuddering.

The pads of Eli's thumb and forefinger settled over his carotid arteries and Victor ticked off the seconds as oxygen stopped reaching his brain. Went foggy and shuddering and bucked back onto Eli as Eli rolled his hips and brute-forced his way deeper.

He numbed Eli, just to see what he'd do, and then _—_

He'd have screamed, but Eli's hand snapped so tight around his neck that he couldn't make a single sound, and Eli was _railing_ him, humping him so hard that the desk grated forward across the floor. If Victor let this keep up, Eli would fuck him to death. The pain was so complete, so visceral and all-consuming that surely he was being injured, but for a wild second he couldn't bear to stop.

Then self-preservation reasserted itself, and he let Eli feel again.

Eli released his chokehold, shuddering to a halt much deeper inside Victor than he'd been before, and the headrush was dizzying. Victor heard himself moan, quietly desperate, and his cock throbbed viciously. Everything was translating into some horrifying version of pleasure, something that he wanted to devour and take and take and _take._

"I told you not to do that," Eli snarled, finally releasing his mouthful of Victor's shoulder. "You just couldn't listen, could you?"

Victor grinned, noticed hot trails down his cheeks. "Worth it. Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

He meant it as a piece of flippancy, not a sincere question, but Eli drew a shuddering breath. His cock twitched inside Victor's raw, sore-beyond-sore ass as he murmured, "Yes."

Victor savored it. Eli's voice was dark and heavy and he was _sure_ that Eli had never sounded like that before in his life, that he'd never had anything like those blazing few seconds.

"I must be bleeding," he said. "Am I, Eli?"

Eli jerked closer, caging Victor with his body reflexively. "Yeah," he said breathlessly. "You're so _—_ you're so pale. It looks..." He trailed off, and Victor could imagine what he was seeing: Victor's white thighs were a perfect canvas for smears of red. "And you're so hard. Looks like it hurts." Hearing him talk like that was physically stunning, but then he slurred, "Show me how much it hurts," and Victor lost it.

He was aware that he was humiliating himself, but he couldn't make himself stop anymore than he could force his body to heal like Eli's. He rolled his hips, bucked underneath Eli like he'd die if he didn't get it, and with a terrible flush of heat all over, he coaxed out the first whimper of agony.

Once he'd broken the habit of silence, it was appallingly easy, especially because Eli helped him along by rutting shallowly into him, erection starting to slide in the mess of blood and precome. Victor wasn't going to shriek and carry on the way Eli would have _—_ he'd have felt like a porn star, faking it for the camera _—_ but he could let himself groan and sob and whimper and choke. The more he heard his own sounds of torment the hotter it got him, and the more he had to arch his back and work and struggle for it while Eli held him down. Dizzily, he realized that he might just come without ever being touched.

"Is this what does it for you?" Victor gasped, floating. Eli's hand was on his face, feeling the tears, fingertips pressing at Victor's mouth. "Answer me, Eli."

"Masochist," Eli said thickly, which wasn't really an answer, but was illuminating all the same. "You're a sick fuck, Vale." He was breathing so hard, so tense and shaky, that Victor knew he had to be close to coming. He craned his head back, catching Eli's gaze and holding it.

"I'm going to do this to you," Victor promised him. He didn't care for sex _qua_ sex, but this was altogether different. "I won't have to hold back, of course. You'll heal."

Eli's eyes went wide, his flushed, boyish face transfigured into something horrible. He shuddered, slipping out as he did, and shook through his orgasm, coming across Victor's lower back.

"I don't think so," he grated, falling forward onto Victor like the world's sweatiest, heaviest blanket. His mouth was up against Victor's ear as he panted, "I bet I can make it so even _you_ don't enjoy it, Vic," and Victor bit his lip and shut his eyes and came soundlessly, untouched, soaring.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Rumbrave" by Murder By Death.


End file.
